Don't Say It
by Apocalypse Betty
Summary: Follows up directly to No Words Needed. Fred and Daphne struggle to understand their new relationship and the need for each other. Angsty. Will be a multi-chapter fic. Warning: rated M for sexual themed content.
1. Chapter 1

I've re-read my one shots and I feel like there's a lot of gaps I can fill in and play with. I have a lot of ideas jumping around. But the biggest one is the development of their relationship between No Words Needed and Shower Thoughts. I figured this little multi-chapter diddy would help close that gap. And yes, smut will abound, with a healthy dose of my secret ingredient (shhhhh it's angst).

Also, LazyPerfection, I've recently stumbled upon your amazing Fraphne art on Tumblr and it's beautiful! Just absolutely fabulous! You are truly talented. Keep it up, you're doing the Lord's work!

XXXXXX

Fred woke up in increments, slowly becoming aware of his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was was a dull ache in his thighs, like a burn from a good jog.

He blinked his eyes open, seeing the grey metal ceiling of the van above him. Turning his head, he saw Daphne's still sleeping form nuzzled against his body, her shoulders gently rising and falling with her breathing.

If it wasn't for his pants being half way down his legs and the gorgeous woman beside him as evidence, he might have chalked everything up to being a really erotic dream. A fantasy, he was embarrassed to admit, he's dreamt of at least once a week since he was a teenager.

He visually roamed over Daphne's body, taking in her messy red hair, lips parted ever so slightly, and her lipstick smudged due to their rough kissing. Rare were the times when she was seen as less than perfect, every strand of hair was always pristinely brushed into place. But now, he absorbed her disorderly appearance, feeling his heart swell knowing it was all because of him. What they had done together.

Her disheveled state of dress made him drop his gaze to her chest. Their love making had stretched her tank top down low, deliciously revealing the tops of her breasts, the green fabric still covering her nipples.

Fred felt his lower bits twitch to attention, as he was suddenly overcome with the feeling to touch her pillowy flesh and feel it's weight in his palm. They both had been so passionate earlier, they hadn't really taken the time for proper exploration. He bit his bottom lip, wondering if he should just wake her up now with his mouth to her chest.

He leaned forward, but froze mid-action, thoughts of caution zipping across his mind a mile a minute. Better not do this just yet, he decided. He'd waited years for a chance with Daphne like this. Perhaps taking it slower from now on would be best.

Fred propped his head up on a fist instead, silently watching her sleep.

XXXXXX

When Daphne's eyes creaked open and her first sight was of Fred smiling, she didn't hide her own girlish grin. After all, it's not everyday you wake up next to your long-time crush from your teenage years.

She stretched, stiffling a yawn, her body pleasantly humming, "Is it morning yet?"

"It is. But still very early. My watch says half past two."

"I must not be as limber as I used to be," she rubbed her back, "Sleeping on the van floor isn't as comfortable anymore. I've got aches all over."

Fred chuckled and held an arm up, silently inviting Daphne to snuggle closer, "Well, after last night, I'd say we're both pretty sore."

She sighed contentedly, trailing her fingers lazily up his chest, until he caught her hand, kissing the knuckles. The closeness and intimacy that they now shared made her blush. She'd be lying if she said this very scenario wasn't a million dreams come true.

Daphne drew his mouth down to hers, kissing him with ease, as if they'd done this together forever. She deepened the kiss, letting her eyes drift closed, sliding her tongue along side his. Fred's hands were already busy running along her back, grasping her backside tightly, pulling her against himself.

It all felt so right, as if these very actions of kissing and touching had been made only for them. She was silently hoping for a repeat of the previous evening when an unwanted thought crossed her mind.

_Don't think about how awkward it'll be if you break-up_. _It's going to hurt so much._

She stiffened automatically, but the thoughts kept coming anyway, like a train at full speed.

_You love him. You've loved him so for long, but there's no guarantee that he loves you back. Sex does not a relationship make._

Her eyes shot wide open.

_Good luck finding a new camera man if it comes to that. Fred's the best there is. Kiss both of your careers goodbye. And your friendship._

She hated to agree with the voice in her head, but her conscious was making a lot of sense. They really shouldn't be doing this. They shouldn't have done anything like this in the first place, pushing boundaries. It will just wind up hurting them both. She pulled her lips away, gently pushing Fred back. "Fred. Stop. We can't do this. Not again."

Daphne tried to ignore the confusion crossing his handsome face.

"Why not? The mechanic hasn't gotten here yet." He said simply.

"I mean this…us," she gestured around with her hand, "I don't want to ruin what we already have together."

Fred laughed, leaning forward to kiss her again, "Daph, last night was…without a doubt…the best night of my life. You couldn't possibly ruin anything."

She tugged away from him again, this time completely out of his arms, a frown creasing her beautiful features. "I'm serious. Things got carried away. I should've known better."

She ran her fingers through her hair, avoiding his eyes. "I'm sorry, Fred. I really am. It's all my fault. I…I don't know why I did that."

She witnessed a pleathora of emotions came over her blonde companion, namely bewilderment and doubt. He finally sat back against the old blankets, creating more distance between them. Licking his lips, he said, "I could have sworn…that maybe…you felt something too. Something between us."

Daphne looked away. "No," she lied, her heart cracking at her own words.

He seemed to deflate, rubbing his eyes with one hand, "So last night meant nothing to you? It was all a mistake?"

Daphne fliched at his bluntness, "Yes."

His jaw tensed, and an awkward, painful silence fell between them. Fred stood up then from the make-shift pallet and zipped his pants back up, fastening his belt buckle. The sound of leather and metal clicking together was loud in the quiet of the van.

A booming knock on the driver's side door snapped them back to reality. "That'll be the mechanic," Fred said, his voice crisp.

Daphne winced at his tone, _I_ _deserve this,_ she thought, _for leading him on this way. He must hate me now. _

She glanced up as he moved around her to the door. Before she could stop herself she asked, "Are we still friends?"

Fred's deep swallow was audible, a pause, and then he nodded his head stiffly, "Friends."

He stepped out, slamming the van door behind him, leaving her to her own guilty thoughts. She buried her face in her hands_…stupid stupid stupid._


	2. Chapter 2

The remainder of the van ride to Fred's UFO convention was quiet and awkward. Instead of the usual jokes, back and forth banter, and light discussion that they normally shared, it was a heavy silence. One that could actually be felt. Fred tried to speak only when necessary, asking if they should stop for gas or food. Likewise, Daphne only answered in short "yes" or "no" terms.

He had always enjoyed hearing Daphne's voice, even before he developed these pesky feelings, and now with this forced emotional distance between them, it was hard on his heart.

Fred understood what she had meant by "we shouldn't do this". He really did. He wasn't an idiot. It was the main reason why he had struggled making the first move himself for years. They both were risking a lot by crossing that delicate boundary between friends and lovers.

His career was pretty much riding on Daphne's coattails. Joran had only hired him at her insistence. A falling out could easily equate to unemployment and a crude ending to his lifelong dream of becoming a director.

Not to mention, their very friendship was in danger. A bond that had spanned over a decade. The gang was currently defunct right now, each person going their own seperate ways, but what if that changed? Would he be able to sit and shoot the breeze with Daphne again like old friends do? Just go on solving mysteries together like nothing had ever happened? Just pretend that he didn't know how soft her lips were now?

Fred glanced across the bench seat and saw that Daphne was sitting as far away from him as possible, her head leaning against the window, eyes focused on the trees whizzing by. He wondered what was on her mind and selfishly hoped that it was him.

XXXXXX

The UFO convention turned out to be a major let down. It had been raining throughout the week, turning the site into one giant muck fest. The guest speakers and abduction survivors had canceled their events. Several vendors still had booths open, displaying their wares for sale and their own collected conclusive evidence for life on Mars.

Daphne encouraged Fred to pan the immediate area with his camera, attempting to get a decent shot, but when everything is brown, murky, and damp that's like asking for a miracle.

Fred sighed, shifting the weighty camera higher on his shoulder, "Let's just cut for good, Daph, call it a day. This joint is total a bust."

"Absolutely not," she said defiantly, crossing her arms, "I can tell that some of these people might really be on to something. True visionaries! Imagine the ratings if we were the first to break a big story from here!"

"Ummm, you really think we're going to find breaking news here?" Fred asked, "That dude over there is bragging that he's mated with over ten different alien species."

Daphne grimaced, "Well, maybe not him exactly. I was just hoping that this trip wouldn't be a complete waste of time."

He placed his hand on her shoulder, giving her a charming smirk, "I dont think it's a total loss. We did get some fantastic footage of the leaves changing colors."

Her breath caught in her throat from his touch, the first time they'd had contact since the incident in the van. She smiled back covering his hand with hers, and was disappointed when he suddenly pulled it away.

But this is what she wanted, wasn't it? Being just friends? Platonic individuals don't seek out physical comfort from each other.

Fred could sense the uneasiness that his touch had caused and turned away from her, hoping to ignore the fluttery feeling in his own stomach. "Let's just head back to the hotel, Daph. Before it starts to pour again."

Daphne turned to follow, but the sole of her heel was sucked into an unusually deep puddle of mud, like quicksand. Arms flailing helplessly, she reached out for something stable and caught the back of Fred's jacket, throwing him off balance. In all of a few seconds, they both had landed in the muck, along with the expensive camera.

She felt a pang in her chest when she heard him mutter, "Danger-prone Daphne strikes again."

XXXXXX

Back at the hotel, Daphne had gone to the room first to change while Fred tried his best to clean the camera in the van, but with no luck. The whole thing would have to be taken apart, piece by piece, cleaned, and reassembled. Dried gunk had saturated deep inside the machine and Fred's heart gave a little quiver, hoping it hadn't done any permanent damage.

Sliding his card key into the door lock, he let himself in. His white coat and blue undershirt had become stiff from dried mud and was beginning to itch. Yanking both garments off, he tossed them in a corner and moved towards the bathroom to wash off.

He froze in the door way, having forgotten that Daphne had already beaten him to it, her own jacket and skirt in a messy pile covered with grime. She stood semi-nude, getting a quick sink bath clothed only in her green tank top and panties. The vision she presented was alluring, and he found he couldn't pull his eyes away from her if his life depended on it.

He glanced down at her dainty feet, her nails neatly painted a bright violet, the heels smooth. It was obvious pedicures were part of her weekly routine. He moved his eyes upwards, seeing her toned legs ebb and stretch while washing at the counter, and he recalled how those same feminine legs felt strong when they were wrapped around his waist.

His gaze explored higher, noting the soft curves of her ass, Daphne's thin panties leaving very little to the imagination. Fred's fingers clenched at his sides, fighting the urge to reach out and touch the teasing skin. He deeply regretted moving so fast now with Daphne in the van, he should have taken his time, enjoyed every bit of her. Thinking of lost opportunities, Fred felt his jeans getting tighter.

He stared at her back, neck, and shoulders, barely clad by the tank top, and wondered how soft the skin would be under his fingertips. Watching with hungry eyes, he looked higher, meaning to observe her thick red hair, but instead his blood ran cold as Daphne's green eyes met his blues and held there.

_Busted_.

Her face was blank and he couldn't read if she was mad or not. She piqued an eyebrow, "Fred, are you watching me?"

Fred swallowed hard and thought a moment. He could lie, try to preserve this delicate peace they'd made…or…just be honest and tell her how he felt.

"Well, Freddie?" She asked, her hands on her hips.

Deciding then that the truth was his best bet, he apologized, shaking his head, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

Daphne's gaze dropped to the now obvious bulge in his pants and she blushed a deep crimson. "Oh."

Fred could see her nipples pebbling under the tank top and realized she was quickly becoming as aroused as he was. When Daphne spoke, it was more to convince herself than him. "We agreed we wouldn't do this anymore. We're staying friends, remember?"

Despite Fred's blood being engorged elsewhere, his heartbeat was pounding in his ears. He desperately needed her in this moment, if only once more. To be fair, he couldn't ever remember desiring something, or someone, so badly.

He had to relieve this tension somehow and gripped the bathroom door frame hard, making the cheap wood crack. "Would it be wrong if we slept together one more time?"

She bit her bottom lip, considering his offer, and Fred pleaded again. "Just once more? And then we'll never speak of this again. Maybe if we get this out of our system, it'll be easier to go back to being only friends."

Daphne licked her lips, suddenly dry, and nodded her head. "Okay. Just one more time."

Fred came to her across the bathroom in two steps, crashing his mouth to hers. Her arms winded around his neck, pulling him closer. She wasted no time pushing her tongue past his lips, melting herself into him.

He lifted her effortlessly, placing her gently on the bathroom counter. His hands rolled her tank top up and over her head, while she was busy kicking off her panties.

He had sworn to himself moments ago that he would take it slow, mesmerize her curves, kiss every bit of skin he could reach if given another chance. But the instant that Daphne's hands had unbuckled his jeans, her fingers reaching in and curling around his hardness, he knew his plans were lost. Instead, they were replaced by such a base need that almost choked him.

Air? Food? Water? None of it compared to what might happen if he didn't get inside Daphne soon. He was afraid he might explode, literally combust from the inside out.

When Fred entered her for the second time, he was unprepared for how damn good it felt. Not just pleasurable, but…satisfying and familiar; like returning to your cozy hometown after being away for so many years.

He looked to her eyes, wanting to see her reaction, and discovered that she felt the same. They pressed together, her breasts grazing across his chest. She moaned his name softly, just barely audible, before seizing his mouth for a deep kiss.

He wanted to be gentle and easy, make it last for however long fate would allow. If this was the last time he would have her intimately, then he wanted to prove to Daphne just how much she meant to him.

When he started to thrust, Fred found he couldn't stop, and was no longer in control. It was as if his brain had been shut off, only performing the basic functions to spur him along; absorbing Daphne's pants, her breasts bouncing with the friction, her lips swollen from his kissing, all those sensual little details that Fred was trying to remember for a lifetime.

They rutted together roughly, her hips pushing up, trying to meet his own harsh movements. He could feel her fingernails digging into his biceps, her cries echoing in the small hotel bathroom. Fred was completely lost in her, his mind barely registering Daphne whimpering, "God, Fred…please…don't stop."

He knew his time with this beloved woman was coming to an end, the unspoken biological goal reaching closer and closer. She kissed him then, raking her teeth lightly along his bottom lip. He could feel her inner walls fluttering against his member, felt her legs tighten around his waist, drawing him in as deep as possible, trying to reach that sweet place.

"Please…" she begged again.

Obeying her whim, he let go of her hip and moved his fingers between their bodies. With a feather-light touch, he rubbed the sensitive nub above where their bodies joined. Daphne seemed to melt in his hands. All strength left her body as she came, her head tilted back against the mirror.

She brought her lips to his neck, sucking the skin there. It was more than enough to push him into the great white abyss. He spilled himself inside her, the universe around him dissolving. All that remained was just him and Daphne. He groaned her name over and over and over, his hips still languidly moving against her, until slowly coming to a stop.

Fred kissed her with as much passion as he could muster and said the only thing that felt right at this moment, "I lov-"

"No. Don't say it," Daphne interrupted, clapping her hand over his mouth, "Friends shouldn't say that to each other."

Fred closed his eyes to hide his hurt and kissed the palm of her hand instead. She leaned her sweaty forehead to his and asked, "We are still friends, right?"

Fred nodded, "Friends."


	3. Chapter 3

Fred panned the surrounding Tennesee mountains, Daphne being the center focus of the shot, yammering on about the history of the local area. He was trying so hard to focus, he really was, but he couldn't help mentally veering off, drifting away to more pleasant memories. Like the one in the hotel bathroom. A personal favorite recollection of his…well, most of it.

Daphne's lips were as hungry as his own, her soft whimpers and harsh pants encouraging him faster. How she looked at him in those final seconds before release, as if he was precious to her. His heart ache afterward when she spurned his attempt to vocalize his love. The hurt in his chest growing when she insisted that they should remain only friends. Then, to prove a platonic point, she had gently pushed him away and went back to cleaning herself at the sink, as if the past ten minutes had been nothing more then a simple handshake.

That specific incident had been two months ago. Fred hadn't known then, but it was the start of an intensely erotic and confusing cycle. One that left him craving more, and at the same time wishing he could just walk away. It was becoming emotionally exhausting.

Without fail, the sequence would begin in the same manner, initiated by either him or Daphne. The slightest touches of the hand or back, ones that could possibly be called accidental. Then later, growing to a soft caress of an arm, or a flirtatious quip when no one else was around. The tension building over a period of days, growing tighter and tighter until one them eventually snapped.

They would both end up grinding against each other, tearing clothes off, lips ravenous. When the cycle was at it's peak, they didn't care about where they were, only of the quickest way to get skin to skin.

Fred grinned to himself, remembering the various places they'd desperately grabbed at one another in the past few weeks…

_Daphne seizing him by the lapel of his coat, pulling him in for a deep kiss under the stars in a deserted national park. He remembers being mindful of the sticks and pebbles on the ground beneath her back…_

_Him pressing her roughly up against a brick wall in the alleyway of a seedy bar, hidden by the shadows of a blown out lamplight. Her cries drowned out by the band playing inside, his grunts muffled with his face buried in her neck..._

_Daphne straddling him across the bench seat of the van, both trying not to giggle in between pants and moans because of the lack of space. He had a good knot on his head for days when he'd rocked against the driver's side door mid-coitus..._

_Him rasping on about how beautiful she is while he worked against her body. His words of affection being cut short when her mouth silenced him as he took Daphne quickly on top of her own desk at the office..._

Those were Fred's favorite parts, but soon after came the worst end of the cycle. The one that left him with a deep hurt everytime. He would try to give voice to his feelings, to empty his whole heart, but as predictable as the four seasons, she would cover his mouth or shush him. The spectacular finale was when she would utter her guilt-ladden request, "Are we still friends?"

_Always_ friends.

_Only_ friends.

And like the helpless lovesick man he was, unable to tell Daphne no, he gave in each time. Nodding his head, agreeing to be nothing else. They weren't lovers, they weren't boyfriend and girlfriend, they weren't soul mates. Per Daphne's insistence, they were still just good friends.

Yet, when she held him tight during those passionate moments, kissing him soundly, clinging to him tight as pleasure rocked through her body…he could easily pretend that they were more.

Daphne's annoyed tone cut through Fred's memories, bringing him back. "Fred, are you even listening to me?"

He shook the thoughts from his head, "I am now, Daph. Sorry."

"I said it's getting chilly up here. Let's cut for the night," she whined, rubbing her arms through the purple jacket.

"Yeah, it is a little nippy," Fred agreed, feeling the prickles of cold air blow through his white coat.

"Let's go to that old restaurant in town, warm up a bit," she said, hooking her arm comfortably with his and walking towards the van.

XXXXXX

Fred came out of the bathroom, rubbing his wet hands on the sides of his jeans. It never ceased to amaze him how many restaurants were perpetually out of paper tow -

He froze mid-thought as he glanced across the dining area at their table, noticing an unfamiliar mustached man sitting in his seat.

_His_ seat. Next to _Daphne_. Chatting her up. Worst yet, she actually seemed to be enjoying the company. His hands instinctively balled into fists at his side.

Fred eyed the stranger's hand as he reached into the breast pocket of his finely tailored suit and handed Daphne a pen and a business card. She scribbled on a napkin, handing it to the unknown guy with a smile. A smile she usually reserved only for him. The offending individual winked in her direction, saying something that made Daphne laugh out loud, her green eyes shining bright.

A jealous fire burned through him then. He knew he had no right to be possessive, no actual "claim" to her. Likewise, she had not voiced any monogamous loyalty to him, but this did not damper his rapidly growing ire. He just thought, that maybe…maybe, she wouldn't want anyone else.

When the man finally walked away, Fred let out a deep breath that he hadn't even known he'd been holding. He took his seat then, not even trying to disguise the bitterness in his voice.

"Well?" He asked, crossing his arms.

Daphne took a sip of her long island iced tea, looking slightly guilty. "Well, what?"

"Who was that?"

She stirred her drink absently, "His name is Ross Harwood. He recognized me from the show and offered to give a tour of his moonshine distillery."

Fred piqued a blonde eyebrow, "When? We're already booked and we still have the old downtown to cover."

A deep blush crept up her cheeks at his words and she looked away from him, "It would be…a private tour. Just me."

Despite hearing her say it with his own ears, he couldn't quite comprehend her meaning. "Like a date?"

She intentionally didn't answer his question, and silently picked at a tomato in her salad.

XXXXXX

"A _date_, Daphne? Really?"

She stood next to the cheap hotel mirror, smoothing on fresh lipstick, "It's not that big of a deal, Fred."

_At least, it shouldn't be._

Dinner had remained quiet and strained, the tension increasing once they were back in the privacy of their shared hotel room.

Fred's hair was messy, due to him continually running his hands through it, "I know we've never said anything…about…what's between us. But, I thought it was special. An unspoken thing."

Daphne closed her lips on a tissue to rid of excess lipstick, trying to hide her face from him. She didn't want Fred to see that it had been special for her too. Their passionate moments had meant a lot to her, actually. Couldn't he understand that _that_ in itself was the problem?

She bit back how she really felt, trying to cover it up with a haughty attitude. "We agreed that we aren't together, Freddie. I don't see the problem. I can date anyone I want, and so can you."

"I don't want anyone else," he growled, gritting his teeth.

Daphe tried to ignore the flutter in her heart caused by the sincerity of his words. When she wasn't able to bear the pressure of his stare any longer, she turned to the mirror again to freshen up her mascara, "Don't you have to finish those edits from the cave tour we went on? Joran's been pestering me about it all week."

Fred's gaze narrowed and his jaw tensed. "Sure, I'll get right on it _boss_," he said, words dripping with venom, "Anything else I can do for you, _Miss_ _Blake_?"

She refused to give in to his goading and continued putting on her make-up with a straight face and a well-practiced hand. When she heard Fred leave the room, slamming the door behind him, she had to blink back the tears for fear of it smudging.


	4. Chapter 4

It felt wrong. All wrong.

She hadn't meant to take it this far with Ross, but after a few drinks at his private moonshine distillery, it had seemed like a good idea. Daphne had seen this as a prime opportunity to push her feelings for Fred down deep, _very_ deep. Denial right now kept her heart safe.

After all, Ross was charming, handsome, and successful. Who wouldn't be interested? So when he leaned in to kiss her, gently taking her wrist to lead her back to his plush office for more privacy, she eagerly followed.

The moment that the door closed behind them, his hands were tugging at her shirt, his fingers unhooking her bra with expertise. His skill and speed at undressing her had Daphne guessing that she was far from the first woman to be brought back here, and was certain she'd be equally far from the last.

Oh well, he _did_ have a talented mouth…

While she was still standing, Ross left her lips and kissed across her jaw, trailing down her throat, and moving slowly downwards, his tongue teasing each nipple to a point.

But it felt off, unnatural somehow. _Wrong_. _Wrong_. _Wrong_.

Ross dropped to his knees in front of her, as if in worship, while he shimmied her skirt down her legs. Daphne squeezed her eyes shut, maybe if she pretended it was Fred this would be better, more enjoyable. If he had been the one kissing down her body she'd be a shivering mess by now, completely unable to stand on her own two legs.

…_Fred_….

At that same moment, she felt Ross's prickly mustache against her stomach and it was the final straw. She just couldn't do this. She had a good imagination, but in all truth, he wasn't Fred.

This was so wrong, in every way possible. Why did she think this was a such swell idea?

XXXXXX

Daphne came through the door a little past midnight, removing her heels, and tossing her purse in a corner. She glanced at Fred's side of the room, feeling a cozy warm feeling in her soul when she saw him sitting in bed, laptop in hand.

"Hey," she said with a smile, "I'm back."

Fred didn't bother to look up, "I've been busy finishing those edits you asked for."

Daphne sat down on her own uncomfortable mattress, slipping her jacket down her shoulders. "Thank you for that, Freddie. I didn't mean to stay out so late. We had dinner and drinks and-"

"Where's your bra, Daphne?" Fred cut in, not interested in letting her finish.

She lifted an eyebrow and glanced down at her own chest, her nipples clearly pebbling under her tank from the chilly room air. She blushed a bright red that could rival her hair.

"Did you leave it at his place?" Fred asked, his voice hard as stone.

She did in fact leave her bra at Ross's office, when she'd pushed him away and dressed in a hurry, desperate to get out of there. Daphne didn't feel like mentioning any of this to Fred, however.

She crossed her arms across her breasts, her tone just as icy, "It's none of your business where my bra is."

They glared at each other, the silence between them somehow deafening.

"If I'd known how easy it was to get with you," Fred sneered, "I'd have given you my number years ago."

Daphne's jaw dropped at his harshness, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Instead of retorting, she leaned over and switched off the light to her side of the room.

"I'm going to bed now," was all she said.

XXXXXX

He could hear Daphne's hitched breathing from across the room. Fred couldn't see her, as she was facing the opposite direction, but he knew she was crying. And the fact that he was the cause of it made his chest tighten with regret.

He'd won, hadn't he? He'd sure put Daphne in her place. It was all her fault anyway, dragging him along all this time, making him feel used. Making him feel like she actually cared. She deserved what she got.

_Her fault. Her fault. Her fault._

So why did he feel like such a garbage human being?

For a second, he considered crawling into her bed, holding her close, and whispering apology after apology into her ear. He wanted to move his hands to intimate places that only he should touch, kiss her lips until she begged him to take her, if only once more.

But he didn't.

Instead, Fred rolled over in bed, facing the wall, and fell into a restless asleep while listening to Daphne's muffled sobs.

XXXXXX

Fred wasn't sure how late it was when he woke, only that the hotel room was still dark. The lone source of light being a thin fluorescent beam coming from the window.

He curled inside the blanket, preparing to go back to sleep, when he heard Daphne's soft voice calling out for him, "Fred? Are you awake?"

He didn't answer.

"Freddie?" She tried again.

_No. I'm not going to say anything. I'm not going to give her the satisfaction. Let her stew in this turmoil of her own design._

Daphne's hushed statement was anxious, almost pleading, "I know you're not sleeping," she exhaled deeply, "Because you snore."

He remained quiet, and Fred could hear the rustle of her sheets and then the sounds of her feet walking across the cheap hotel carpet. She stopped beside his bed, and despite his better judgment he rolled over to face her.

She stood before him, partially illuminated in the beam of light. Daphne's silk nightgown clung to her body and accentuated her delicate curves. Her hair perfectly framed her face, even being unbrushed and straight from bed. Fred couldn't help but think that she was utterly beautiful at her most vulnerable moments.

Daphne bit her bottom lip nervously, "Just one more time?"

_No. No more. All it did was offer a temporary reprieve until she broke his heart all over again. It was akin to torture._

Apparently his brain and his mouth weren't connected, and it shocked him he heard his own voice whisper, "Okay."

He didn't want to watch as she grasped the hem of her gown and flipped it off over her head, revealing herself to be completely naked underneath. Yet, like his mouth, his eyes had a will of their own and he stared greedily.

She reached down to the waistband of his pajama bottoms and tugged them down far enough to free him, his hardness laying flat against his stomach. Daphne climbed up and over, guiding him into herself, sinking down on his length slowly, adjusting to the angle.

"Touch me," she begged, "…please…"

_No. He didn't want to encourage her. If Daphne wanted empty emotionless fucking, well, that's just what she was going to_ _get_.

His hands, though, moved of their own accord to knead her breasts, before sliding down to cup the cheeks of her ass.

Daphne leaned forward, her hair cascading around his face like their own private cavern. The lavender scent of her shampoo was strong, and he inhaled deeply to bring as much of her inside himself as possible.

She brushed her lips gently against his, whispering, "Friends?"

_Absolutely not. He was so beyond that. Fred had no idea what they were, but they certainly were not friends anymore._

Instead of answering her in the usual manner, Fred suddenly thrusted his hips upwards, going unexpectedly deep. He grinned when Daphne gasped in suprise, placing her hands on his chest to steady herself.

XXXXXX

He was still angry. She could tell.

They locked eyes as she rode him, and she quickly looked away. His gaze had always been kind and honest, speaking of something unspoken, but now they held an emotion that Daphne couldn't name. It made her shiver, knowing that the unknown emotion was directed at her.

Fred's hands were normally gentle and soothing, but currently, they were rough. His thrusts going just a little too deep, his fingers digging into her hips just a little too hard, and when he leaned up to catch her nipple with his mouth, she felt his teeth graze instead of his tongue.

"Did he…did he touch you like this?" Fred's breathing was ragged.

"No."

"Don't…don't lie to me Daphne." His statement was punctuated by several deep movements making her moan.

"I'm not," she tried to catch her breath, "I'm not lying, Freddie." She really was being truthful. Her escapade with Ross hadn't gotten to this point.

Without a warning, he rolled them both over, having her head to the pillows with his weight pressing on top. He took her mouth forcefully, making it more of a claim, than a kiss. Fred picked up his pace, going faster, while she pulled him close, enduring his nearly savage onslaught. She had never seen him lose control like this before. It both thrilled and frightened her, knowing that she was the cause of it all.

"Do you think that jerk will even remember your name in a week?" Fred growled, "A month?"

Daphne tried to respond, but all she could do was groan. She was so close...

"But _I_ will, Daphne," he gasped out in between pants, "I will remember you forever. You _mean_ something to me."

She closed her eyes and dug her nails into his back, subconsciously trying to pull him deeper. His voice, his truths, his mouth, his hands, his cock…it all was too much. When she came it felt like she being consumed by a white fire, the intensity of it quite close to pain.

As she came down from her heights, she noticed he was close too, his thrusts becoming sharper. He pulled out of her abruptly, his face contorting in pleasure as he spilled his release onto her thigh, murmuring her name like a mantra.

For some reason, this simple action stunned her. Ever since their first time together, Fred had always finished inside, but this was different. It felt very _impersonal_, as if this entire physical act had been only that, just a physical act. It stung, like a metaphorical slap to the face.

But this it what she wanted, right? For them to be good friends and devoted coworkers, not lovers. So, why would she expect him to be passionate?

Afterwards, Fred would usually pull her close, stroke her hair, and whisper sweet nothings until her eyes grew heavy. Not tonight, however. He laid down beside her, pulling the blankets tight around himself, and turned over to face the wall again.

She waited for Fred to say something, anything, but he never did. After several minutes of silence, his breathing evened out, and he began to snore softly. His sudden dismissal of her rocked Daphne to the core, leaving her woefully unsatisfied.

Disappointed for reasons she couldn't explain, she climbed out of his bed quietly, being careful not to wake him as she wiped the mess off her thigh with his sheet. Reaching around on the floor for her nightgown, she pulled it back on before sliding into her own bed, lost in her thoughts.

Of all the times they'd done this, she had never left him feeling...scummy, and right now she did. She felt almost dirty. And all Fred had done was follow her precise instructions.

Daphne sighed and covered her face with a pillow. Something needed to be done about this situation.


	5. Chapter 5

I hope this new chapter helps to ease some boredom caused by the quarantine. Stay safe and keep healthy. As a mom to a toddler with a chronic lung condition and immuno-compromised, covid-19 ain't nothing to fiddle with. Wash them hands my dear friends!

XXXXXX

Daphne sat in a lounge chair, the hotel room still dim, but slowly growing brighter with the rising sun. Her legs were curled up underneath her nightgown, chin resting on her open palm, and her cellphone sat precariously on her lap.

She could hear Fred's slow pattern of breathing, indicating his deep REM sleep, and suddenly had the urge to join him under the covers. Even though sex was usually the ultimate goal, she still wanted to feel those strong arms hold her close, the soothing touch of skin to skin contact, with his head lying against hers.

_And this is exactly why something had to be done. Sooner, rather than later.._

It was now crystal clear to her, as she assumed it was to Fred, that remaining friends was no longer an option; not while they still worked together, saw each other on a daily basis, and shared living quarters.

_And don't forget being physically intimate..._

Perhaps with some time apart, their feelings would change, go back to being more platonic, more innocent. Hopefully, it could be similar to their mystery solving teenage years, an underlying, yet unacknowledged attraction. It would be hard to completely forget how good Fred made her feel, not only by making her body thrum with pleasure, but by warming her heart, with just his presence alone.

She observed Fred slowly starting to wake, beginning to toss and turn in his sheets. A knot formed deep in her chest as time moved closer and closer to giving him the dreaded news. He was going to be so angry…so hurt.

XXXXXX

Fred awoke to the feel of soft lips on his, and a gentle voice purring his name. He blinked his tired eyes, trying to focus, as Daphne's sweet face came into view.

She was reclined on his pillows, his sheets covering most of her body, her mouth curved into a sad smile. He wondered briefly if she had slept beside him the whole night. Reaching out, she cupped his cheek with the palm of her hand, her thumb running along his bottom lip. "We need to talk."

He kissed her thumb tenderly, before glancing at the alarm clock. "It's half past six, Daph. It couldn't wait until seven?"

"No. It really can't."

He sat himself up into a sitting position, pulling the blankets with him to cover his nude lower half. When he did so, Daphne's sheets slipped down, revealing herself dressed again in her silk nightgown.

Of course she had redressed. To remain naked after sex would indicate something _other_ in their relationship. Still, he couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.

While Fred waited for her to find the words that were supposedly so important, he noticed a small bruise on her neck. Thinking back to the previous night, he considered maybe he had been a bit too rough.

The silk of her gown was very fine, almost transparent, like tissue paper. Her breasts were visable, but only just. She still hadn't spoken yet, so to encourage her Fred leaned forward, bravely sucking a nipple into his mouth through the fabric.

Daphne gasped, raking her fingers through his hair. Initially to pull him closer, deciding instead to push him away.

"No. Not right now. We don't have much time."

Fred chuckled while he moved to take her other breast, "We don't have to be at our next interview until noon. We've got all the time in the world…"

His sentence trailed off, his tongue teasing her other nipple through the silk. He really did regret being so harsh the last time and planned to be much gentler today, if she would allow it.

Daphne exhaled deeply, "A valet will be here in about an hour. You need to pack."

Fred paused his ministrations and looked to her face, quirking a blonde eyebrow, "Where are we going? We still have a few more days of filming left here."

She looked away, avoiding his gaze, "I'm not going anywhere. But you're going back home."

"What?! You're firing me?" He demanded, his heart dropping to his knees.

"Of course not. Early this morning I requested a transfer from Joran. You'll be reassigned to Cosimo Bianchi. I traded him to you in exchange for his producer."

"On what grounds?" Fred growled.

"I told Joran it was because of artistic differances. Being halfway through the season he wasn't going to grant the request…so I had to appeal to his dramatic side."

Daphne licked her lips nervously, as if afraid of his response. Despite this awful betrayal, he still wanted to kiss those same lips; to kiss them and push her back against those pillows and make love to her until she changed her mind.

He crossed his arms, "You're a cruel woman, Daphne Blake."

"I don't mean to be," she said, her voice quaking. "I'll let you get ready and pack in peace."

She quietly shuffled off the bed, going to the bathroom and shutting the door behind her. As if to cement the divide she had imposed between them, he heard the _snick_ of the lock clicking into place.

He came to the door, laying his forehead against the cool wood. "You were right, you know," Fred sighed, "About all of this being a giant mistake."

On the door's other side, Daphne's eyes swelled with unshed tears. It tore her heart to hear the confirmation in his voice. She wanted to say something, refute Fred's statement; but how can she argue back when he was just repeating her own words?

_Why was it so damn hard for her to say, "I love you"?_

_Why was it so dangerous? Why did it have to hurt so badly?_

Fred's voice dropped to a whisper, "Before all of this happened, I was naive about how I felt. I could have chalked it all up to being childhood friends, or just working side-by-side with a beautiful woman every day. I wasn't really aware of how much I…needed you."

Daphne gnawed at her bottom lip, remaining silent.

Fred pressed his palm to the door, hoping she'd open it. "Daph, just...tell me that I'm not the only one that feels this way. Tell me you feel it too."

When she finally spoke, her voice cracked, "Of course I do, Freddie. It will be better for us this way, you'll see."

He swallowed his hurt before answering, "Better for who, exactly? 'Cause it's definitely not better for me."

XXXXXX

Fred watched through the airplane window, eyeing the rest of the boarding passengers, still holding out hope to see a redhaired woman wave to him from the terminal. He guessed it would play out like an 80's romance film, with Daphne throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him in front of everyone. A public declaration of their relationship, of what they really were behind closed doors. People on the sidelines would clap and cheer. He imagined her cheeks wet with tears as she pleaded with him to stay, would beg him to forgive her for being so dense. She'd ask him to love her always…and he would. If only she'd give him that chance.

But Daphne didn't appear.

All he saw was the baggage handlers walking cautiously around the tarmac, prepping the plane for take off.

He stared outside idly, looking without really seeing, until finally he sighed in defeat, sliding the plastic window cover down.


	6. Chapter 6

It was becoming an awful habit, one that let Daphne's spirits down a little bit each time, but she just couldn't stop checking her phone.

No new calls. No new texts. No new emails.

At least not from _him_.

In between takes with her new producer, Maxine Henkle, she couldn't fight the urge to tug her phone out of her pocket, hoping to see a missed call or text from Fred. Anything. But days turned into weeks, weeks morphed into months, and still no word from him. Complete silence and total distance.

_But isn't that what she wanted?_

She knew Fred had been angry and hurt when he'd left the hotel three months ago. It had caused a lasting pain in her own heart, but she hoped he'd come around to see things her way. To understand that while they were working together, remaining platonic friends just wasn't a possibility.

His lack of communication stung at her soul like a bee sting. Daphne was honest enough to admit it to herself, just not to the one person in the world she should.

There had always been a gravitational pull towards Fred, but making their relationship physical had only intensified that magnetism. From the moment her lips landed on his in the Mystery Machine, his arms pulling her close, his touch conveying the same deep need…it had awakened something inside Daphne. It uncovered a hole in her life, one that she hadn't even known existed until then. A blank abyss that was only made complete by Fred. And now…with him suddenly gone…that void _ached_.

She was aware of it from the time she opened her eyes in the morning until she laid herself down at night. It reared it's ugly head throughout the day, nearly everything around her stirring some treasured memory of Fred, and then in turn reminding her of his constant absence.

This new dilema came with a flood of emotions that weren't exactly pleasant and she wasn't prepared for it. Among them were loneliness, yearning, and…

_Regret_.

Had she made a mistake? Was all this distance really for the best?

Daphne sighed, tucking her phone back into her jacket pocket, along with Fred's well worn orange ascot, now her own personal keepsake.

She turned towards Maxine, who was giving her a thumbs up, indicating that their filming was complete for the day. Daphne smiled and nodded her head politely as her new producer powered down the camera.

She watched as Maxine carefully packed away the equipment. Her new crewmate was very talented. She was fresh from college, with new ideas for the show, and endless enthusiasm. Daphne could see why Cosimo had been so hard headed about trading Fred initially, the young woman clearly had a bright future in showbiz. But with all her abilities, Maxine just wasn't Fred.

Often while shooting, Daphne would forget that Fred wasn't there and would be momentarily shocked when she was reminded of Maxine's styled afro behind the lens and not blonde waves, or her big friendly brown eyes instead of Fred's crisp blues.

_Jeepers, I miss him._

But even more than that.

_I love him._

Daphne placed her fingertips back into her pocket to stroke the threadbare fabric of the ascot, her mind wandering to a much sweeter memory.

_In a deserted national park, way past closing time, Fred perched his weight above her. He was careful not to crush her body with his larger one as he moved inside her, his thrusts getting needy and desperate. Daphne's ankles were locked on the small of his back, his groans loud in the small forest clearing and driving her nearly as wild as his movements. Her whimpers were softer, and easily swallowed by his mouth. So lost in the sensation was she, that Daphne didn't feel the pebbles and twigs beneath her back, didn't care about how her violet suit jacket would be filthy, and didn't mind one iota that a park ranger could stumble upon them at any minute._

_The only thing that mattered was Fred. Them. Together. She knew part of this was a primal thing. A biological craving to be with an attractive man like him. But something else stirred, whispered in her ear that she desired more._

_"Fred, please…", Daphne mouthed, nearly begging._

_He buried his face into her neck, the feeling of lips and teeth grazing over her skin._

_The contact proved to be their undoing and they tumbled over the edge into ecstacy together. She tightened her legs around his waist, with thoughts of "I love you I love you I love you I love you" filling her head. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried her hardest not to let the words slip out accidently._

_When they both caught their breath, Fred rolled to his side, pausing to rake his fingers through her hair. She smiled and leaned into his touch. Somehow, these loving caresses afterwards felt even better than the intimate ones._

_He picked a stray leaf from her hair, "Why won't you let me say it, Daph?"_

_He went to press his lips to her mouth, but she turned her head at the last second, his kiss landing instead on her cheek. Daphne sighed, the mood suddenly shattered by his question. "You know why."_

_"We can make it work."_

_Daphne brushed her thumb across his lips and he gently kissed the pad of her digit. "You can't guarantee that. And then where will we be?"_

_Fred heaved himself up from the ground, refastening his pants and belt buckle. "You're a funny woman, you know that?"_

_Daphne quirked an eyebrow as he helped her up from the grass. She wasn't sure yet if he was being serious or poking fun._

_He continued, "We've gone into haunted houses, faced psychopaths in masks, you've been kidnapped more times than I can count…and yet, you're afraid of a four letter word. I never would've thought that of you."_

_When she didn't deny it, Fred leaned his forehead against hers, so close he could kiss her if he wanted. "You don't need to be scared, Daph. You know how I feel about you."_

_Daphne blushed at his honesty, quickly wanting to change the subject. "Friends?" She asked._

_"Always."_


	7. Chapter 7

Fred squeezed his eyes shut to stay focused. Tara Olivard was a gorgeous woman, he couldn't deny that, but her soft hazel eyes and chestnut hair wasn't what he wanted. With his eyes closed, he could better use his imagination and pull from his memory.

_Daphne's face was upturned in a bright smile as she giggled at some dumb joke of his. Fred couldn't help but think she was absolutely irrestible when she was like this, happy and carefree. He pulled her close, stealing her laughter with his mouth. She expected his kiss, gliding eagerly across the van's bench seat. Lifting her leg to straddle him was no easy task. They had to press tightly together behind the steering wheel, space being very limited._

Unfortunately, Fred couldn't turn off his ears, and the sound of Tara's exaggerated moans grated on his nerves. She couldn't be enjoying him this much so soon. Gritting his teeth, he tried to fall back into his past.

_In their intimate moments together, Daphne's groans were usually quieter, sincere, and earnest. He could always tell how much she wanted him by her little mewls. This time her voice was taking on a desperate edge as he moved his lips to her neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, while his hands slipped under her tank top, cupping her breasts. Demanding more friction, she started to roll her hips against his bulge._

Tara writhed under him, but her movement was distracting. It just didn't flow right. She wasn't in tune to his tempo and the act felt all…sloppy. _Unfamiliar_. He wanted to tell her to lie still, but felt it might be considered rude.

_Him and Daphne mixed together well physically, there had never been an adjustment period or clumsy touching that he could recall._

_Without speaking, only knowing, he bundled her skirt up around her hips as she worked his fly and belt buckle. Daphne whimpered out loud when his member sprung free, revealing how needy she truly was._

_"Kiss me, Freddie," she begged, urging his mouth to hers._

Tara tried to tug Fred's head down for a kiss, and he shook his head, "No."

Her brow furrowed and she seemed disappointed, but he just couldn't bring himself to care.

_As he entered her, his universe revolved only on how tight and warm Daphne's body was. His lips hardly left hers as they moved together, every motion working to bring them both pleasure. A particularly deep thrust made her back arch, unintentionally honking the van's horn. The shrill noise was loud in the empty parking lot, but all Fred could hear was the wet sounds of their love making and Daphne's ragged breathing_.

_He knew her climax was close, and for an instant he didn't mind if he finished or not. He just wanted to see her lose all control, for her to completely come undone by him and him alone. He hungered for when Daphne would look at him in those last seconds, as if he held her heart in his hands, as much as she currently held his._

_Fred thought she looked ethereal as she rode his length again and again. Her hair and breasts were bouncing freely, her eyes slightly glazed in passion, her hands grasping his shoulders as if she might float away._

_"Don't you realize how beautiful you are," he panted, "when you're like this?"_

_His words ignited a spark deep within her and he could feel her body tensing around him, riding those blissful waves. She threw her head back, her cries echoing in the van, moaning something unintelligible. Fred buried himself in to the hilt, as far as he could, seeing stars behind his eyes as he burst inside._

_Pressing his face between her breasts, he listened to her heart race. Daphne threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him close to her chest, pressing chaste kisses to the top of his head. Inhaling deeply, Fred wrapped himself in the smell of her lavender perfume and…something else. Some feminine scent that was distinctly Daphne._

_In these tender moments, both reveling in the aftershocks of pleasure, Fred thought that maybe…just maybe…she might love him too._

He had to hold on to that arousing memory, concentrate on it as long as could, burn it into his brain forever if he wanted to finish this _chore_ with Tara.

Or anyone else really.

Fred turned his face away from his new partner, trying his hardest to convince himself that it was Daphne beneath him, and not Tara.

XXXXXX

Fred slumped forward on the edge of the mattress, tugging on his loafers. He should be ashamed, or at least embarrassed that he had just given the worst performance of his life. But strangely his pride wasn't hurt, only his heart.

He had been unable to finish anything with Tara, lying about having a migraine. Thankfully she was understanding and didn't push his excuse further. She pressed her head against his back, encouraging him to lie back down with her, but Fred shrugged her off, not bothering to hide the aggravation in his voice.

"No. I'm going home."

He didn't even make an effort to see if she was upset by his departure, only grabbing his keys and wallet, closing her front door behind him.

Fred sat in his truck for a good long while.

God, he felt so empty.

So lost.

When Tara had touched his arm earlier in the evening, a knowing gleam in her eye, Fred had hoped it would take away the growing ache in his soul. Maybe her attention would help heal the raw wound left by Daphne's rejection, distract his mind from any thought of her.

Instead, he just felt awful. This had been such a bad idea.

_Dreadful. Dreadful. Dreadful._

He thought of the old saying, "there's plenty of fish in the sea". But maybe he didn't want any other fish. Maybe his "sea" was a pond and the only particular "fish" in it was Daphne.


	8. Chapter 8

Fred felt odd, almost weightless. His sense of time was disoriented. Was it daytime? Or night?

He inspected his body and found it looked normal, just shirtless. His surroundings were far from average, however. It seems he was in Daphne's spacious living room. A place he hadn't been since…

…_she sent me away._

_Banished me from her life._

_Cut me completely out of her heart._

Hearing a rustle beside him, he turned towards the noise and was suprised to see Daphne lounging on her couch, clad only in her nightgown. She smirked mischievously at him, "I've missed you."

_This can't be real,_ he thought, recalling the hurtful moment she had chosen to push him away. "Is this a dream?"

Dream Daphne smiled, a true grin, one that made her eyes crinkle. She stood slowly, and sauntered over to him, her hips swaying seductively as she walked.

And God, she was beautiful. Even in this dream state she was breathtaking.

Daphne reached her hand up and never breaking eye contact she slowly pulled down one strap of her gown.

The clothing sagged a little in the front, barely revealing the top of the breast it was covering, but showing enough plump flesh to catch his attention.

"Do you think this is a dream, Fred?" She asked, innocently.

Wordlessly Fred nodded, and she giggled cutely.

Catching his eyes again, her emerald orbs locked onto his steel blues as she tugged the other strap loose. The garment slid slowly off her body to pool at her feet, showing herself to be totally naked underneath.

Fred's breath hitched in his throat. He'd always thought Daphne was mesmerizing, but being without her these long months had made him desperate. And like a thirsty man of the desert being led to a well, he drank deeply. Gazing upon her, he took his time as he studied her perky breasts, feminine curves, and toned legs.

"This is most definitely a dream," he stated factually.

She held out her hand to touch his bare chest, gently gliding down over his muscular abdomen. Grasping his hand, she brought it to up her breast and gave it a squeeze. Her nipple quickly peaking under his palm.

With a coy wink, she asked, "Doesn't this feel real?"

"Yes, but-"

"Shhhhh," she mouthed quietly, bringing her face close to his, "I know what you want most."

Standing on her toes, she brushed her lips ever so softly against his, with just the barest tip of her tongue present. She whispered against his mouth, "I love you, Freddie."

Fred gulped audibly, the conviction on her face looking so sincere, so earnest. But he knew instinctually that her standing before him and professing her love…none of it was real.

"Now I know for sure this is a dream," he sighed, "The real Daph…she would never say that. Not to me at least."

Surprisingly, Dream Daphne didn't seem angry by his deduction, almost as if she was expecting it, "I wouldn't be so sure."

She brought her lips back to his, and this time her kiss was more adamant as her tongue invaded his mouth, sliding smoothly alongside his own, her hands threading through his hair and pulling him closer.

Fred tugged his head back, regretful of breaking the contact, "If I can't have it in the real world, at least let me have it here."

She quirked an eyebrow, "Have what? I'd give you anything."

"Please," his voice was pleading, nearly begging, "Say it again. Say you love me."

Blinking in confusion, she repeated, "I love you."

He closed his eyes as he savored that sound like fine wine. Those three words coming from her lips were possibly the most heavenly sentence ever spoken.

"Again," he demanded.

She answered, her voice ever so soft, "I love you, Fred Jones."

He realized then that nothing in this world (nothing nothing nothing) could be as arousing as her uttering those simple words. To him, it was the most erotic thing in the world. Instantly, he felt his member stiffen, his blood pulsing south. His constrictive pants were bordering on painful already and he couldn't recall ever being so hard.

Grabbing her by her thighs, Fred effortlessly lifts her from the floor as she wraps her legs around his waist, their anatomy level. This wasn't a position that they had ever done in real life, but he supposed in a dream it didn't matter.

When she reached down between their bodies to guide him inside her, his groan echoed around them. They move slowly at first, the positioning being new and different, but they quickly master it. Each lover moving to their own pleasure, as well as each other's.

Fred knows this isn't real, that Daphne isn't here, and she certainly isn't grinding against him, but at least he can pretend in this personal dream space.

Pretend that she loves him. That she's his, and his alone.

His legs are starting to shake from supporting her weight, but not Hell or high water could make him put her down. Not when her mouth is on his neck, sucking, panting, begging…

He moved them forwards to her couch, gently setting them both down before halting his movements. Cupping her face with both hands, Fred needed to hear it at least one more time.

"Say it, Daph. Please."

This time her statement was full of assurance, "I love you."

Her words nearly cracked his heart in two. Without speaking, he placed her legs over his shoulders, utilizing the edge of the couch to make his next thrust incredibly deep. She cried out at the intensity, as Fred growled low in his throat.

She met his every move with equal fervor, her cries decending into pleading whimpers.

"I love you…Daph," he managed to choke out, "God…I love you."

He pulled all the way out, sliding back inside just to explode. Seeing stars behind his eyes, he squeezed them shut, enjoying every second of ectstacy that his dream world had to offer.

When Fred finally opened his eyes, he saw the bland surroundings of his studio apartment instead of his beloved. He sighed his disappointment, clearly devastated to be back in the real world.

After rubbing his eyes with both hands, he glanced down at his very tented pants, damp from his emission. Irrefutable biological evidence that Daphne was the only person in this galaxy he wanted.

He loved her. So damn much. How can she not see that?


	9. Chapter 9

The thumping music, clouds of cheap cologne, and a dance floor packed with sweaty people didn't have the same draw that it used to. For some strange reason, she thought this night out was what she needed to lift her mood.

Daphne observed the shabby looking bar with a judgemental eye, noting that it was pretty unimpressive as far as clubs go.

Maybe this one is just particularly shady…

Daphne considered quietly sneaking out, but Maxine's reassuring hand on her shoulder changed her mind.

It was her new producer's birthday, and all Maxine wanted was a good time. With her friend being fresh to the area, Daphne offered to show her some fun times. An offer that she is starting to regret making.

Within moments of hitting the floor, Maxine was already jiving to the music. Daphne tried to get in tune with the vibe, but she just wasn't feeling it. Perhaps they should have brought dates? Being lonely sucks eggs, especially when you've already got an aching heart.

Well, she supposed, it shouldn't be too difficult to conjure up a guy to dance with. In her teenage years, all she had to do was make eye contact with the lucky fellow and the smitten person would waste no time asking for a dance. Although out of practice, her old charms could still work.

She glimpsed a small group clustered around the bar, sipping drinks, and engaged in coversation. Honestly, to her, the calmness that they exuded looked really inviting.

_Or maybe I'm getting old._..

Talking in a noisy dance club was near useless. Going the non-verbal route, she nudged Maxine lightly, gesturing towards the bar crowd. Her friend gave her a smile and a thumbs up in return. She had been encouraging Daphne for weeks to get out and meet some new people.

Scanning the cluster as she got closer, she noticed a few handsome faces, some of which were also observing her with keen interest. One gentlemen in particular caught her attention. His back was to her, and she couldn't see his face, but she could tell he was toned and muscular, tall but not too imposing. And to sweeten the deal, he even had blonde hair.

If things went well tonight, she could easily pretend it was someone else. Someone else that she desperately wanted. Hopefully, this guy doesn't have any facial hair…

As she approached, she caught a hint of the man's voice. And it sounded oddly familiar. Too familiar.

The blonde gentleman laughed out loud, freezing Daphne in her tracks, her blood running ice cold.

The stranger doesn't just look and sound like Fred.

The person _is_ Fred.

_Her_ Fred.

Daphne's mind whirls seventy thoughts a minute, each more stressing than the last.

_Why is he here? Why would he come to this bar on this particular night? Who are those people he's with? Is he seeing anyone? Has he seen me? What should I do? Do I even want him to notice me? What would I even say? Am I ready for this? Will I ever be ready?_

_No. I just can't do this. Not yet._

She turns on her heel as sharp as a soldier, and pushes her way through the throng of dancers. Maxine's birthday be damned, she had to get out of this place.

Bursting through the exit door, Daphne collapses against the wall, sobs rocking her petite frame.

_Oh Freddie, what have I done?_

XXXXXX

_Daphne pulled Fred along with her through a side door of a bar and into a dark and empty alleyway. The air inside had been so thick with cigarette smoke that she just needed a minute to breathe in some oxygen that wasn't toxic._

_Tapping the beer bottle against her lips, she smiled, "Thanks for coming with me, Freddie. I know this place is a little out of our show's element, but this shindig is an annual event here. It brings in tons of people and you'll never know what we'll find."_

_Fred downed the last of his own drink, tossing the bottle into a nearby dumpster before winking in her direction._

_"Any event that lets me spend more time with you, especially in that dress, is okay in my book."_

_Blushing a deep crimson, her grin grew wider at his compliment. She wasn't sure if it was the alcohol, or the long work day, or being alone in a dark alley with her long-time crush, but she suddenly felt an intense flicker of courage and the desire to say something…something honest. Damn the consequences for once._

_"I really am a lucky woman to have a friend like you, Fred. I couldn't imagine being here with anyone else but you."_

_A suprised look crossed his attractive face and Daphne quickly regretted voicing her thoughts. She opened her mouth, about to apologize, when he took a step closer. His eyes locked on hers and held there, his gaze piercing all the way to her heart._

_"It **can** be like that, Daph. All the time. Just us."_

_He took another step forward, directly in front of her now, his chest just barely touching hers. He was so warm, his body heat permeating through her thin dress. She swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way his subtle masculine scent was making her flush hot all over, particularly to her center._

_Was he aware of what he does to her? Does he have any idea how just his voice alone can raise her blood pressure?_

_Daphne isn't sure who closed the gap first, regardless of which one initiated the kiss, they both meet in the middle, lips syncing perfectly, as if they'd done this together forever._

_So perfect._

_She drops the beer bottle to the ground, not caring one bit that it shatters into a million pieces as she rakes both hands through his hair, pulling him fully against her body. His mouth claims hers, his tongue dominating, as if he didn't need air to survive, only this kiss._

_Fred's hands are everywhere, groping her breasts, skimming down her waist, caressing her backside, and yet…not where she wants them to be. Not really. She growls her frustration, nipping at his bottom lip._

_Releasing her hold on his hair, her fingers reach down to press against his bulge and is delighted to find him hard as a rock. No encouragement needed._

_So perfect._

_Pulling her mouth from his, she meets his eyes as she moves to his belt buckle and zipper, her unspoken intentions clear._

_He says nothing, only quirking a blonde eyebrow, a knowing grin covering his face._

_Daphne glanced around to confirm that they were still alone. As if the powers above approved of their activities, a nearby lamp light blew out, adding an extra layer of darkness to the already dim alleyway._

_She leans back onto the coarse brick wall, pulling Fred with her. The material on her dress is unforgiving and snags easily. She doesn't give a damn right now, but later in the shower she will notice several red patches on her back where the bricks rubbed her raw._

_Fred rucks her dress up around her hips, before lifting her up by her thighs. When Daphne wraps her legs around his waist, she help but think that his body fits flawlessly between her legs, he's neither too large or too small._

_So perfect._

_She breaks their kiss to whisper, "Don't you dare drop me, Fred Jones."_

_Nuzzling her hair aside with his nose, Fred's lips travel across her jaw and neck, "I would never drop you."_

_His efforts are rewarded by her moaning his name and he smirks into her skin, "Remember the case of the Moat Monster? I didn't let you fall then, did I?"_

_She feels Fred's hand move between them, adjusting his hardness. Despite the odd angle against the wall, he slips inside her without difficulty, gravity helping in this instant. Daphne whimpers as he fills her, suddenly so deep because of how she's perched. There is even a hint of pain at his depth, but the oncoming pleasure overrides it all._

_So perfect._

_Fred begins moving, thrusting upwards and just when Daphne thinks he couldn't possibly go deeper…he does. He's going fast, the alcohol fueling his pace._

_She hears his loud moans echoing in the alleyway, and as much as Daphne enjoys hearing his sounds, she wishes he would hush so they don't get caught. That is, until she discovers those noises are actually coming from her own throat. And then she decides it doesn't matter. Not really. She should care; really, she should. The QUE network would love juicey gossip material like this….but honestly, she can't bring herself to give it a second thought. Not when he's buried so deeply, and pounding into her so hard, and loving her this way, because she's so close…_

_…love…_

_Without thinking about the potential outcome, she lets the words, "I love you," spill out when she comes, the galaxy exploding around her. The band inside is playing so loudly, however, that her admission, as well as the sounds of their lovemaking are easily drowned out._

_Fred's movement against her body is becoming erratic, as well as his breathing. Moments later she feels him twitch inside, as well as the warm liquid rush that follows. She is suprised to find that she has grown to crave it._

_He buries his face in her hair, as if hiding from the dangers of the world and nearly breathless mutters, "Daphne, there's no one on Earth I want to be with more."_

XXXXXX

This dance joint is exactly what Fred expected it would be; loud, obnoxious, and definitely not his choice. He'd never been one to enjoy the club life, even in college. A nice, calm concert would suit him better. But his co-worker was getting married next weekend and several of Cosimo's crew had decided to treat the lucky man to a night on the town. Fred had agreed to go along, but only for appearances sake. He honestly barely knew any of these people, save for Tara.

He had just laughed out loud at some raunchy joke, trying not to sound too fake, when he felt it. An instincual knowledge that someome was watching him, a faint tingle crawling up his spine. Fred turned in the nick of time to see a flash of red hair jostling through people, seemingly desperate to get away.

Fred's heart leapt in his throat, "Daphne?"

Standing on his tiptoes, he scanned the room. Sighing to himself, he gives up, rationalizing to his sore heart that it wasn't her anyway. It couldn't possibly be. Besides, Daphne isn't the only person on this planet to have red hair.

She's just the prettiest.

Shrugging his shoulders in disappointment, he rejoined the group, this time even more dejected than before.


	10. Chapter 10

_Daphne huffed her annoyance, her fingers moving briskly across the keyboard, "Can you please go do something else? I can't concentrate with you in my office."_

_Fred__ quirked an eyebrow, "What am I doing?"_

_"Looking at me like that," she snapped, "I can't focus."_

_Grinning mischievously, he leaned closer until his chest was flush against her back, "To be fair, I wasn't watching you, I was checking out your edits on the computer screen. But…"_

_Fred's words trailed off as he brushed the hair from her neck, and placed a soft kiss there. Feeling victorious at the gasp she let escape, his next words blew over her skin, "You'll have to fire me because I don't think I could ever stop looking at you."_

_Her body stiffened against him and her typing slowed, but she made no move for him to stop._

_Fred left lingering kisses from her neck to her jaw, enjoying her soft sighs. The typing ceased as Daphne's hand came up behind her head, carding her fingers through his hair, pulling him even closer._

_"We shouldn't do **that**," she whispered, more to herself than him._

_Fred hummed, as his lips found the sensitive spot behind her ear. "I completely agree."_

_"No, I mean we really shouldn't be doing **that** here, in the office, right now," Daphne said half-heartedly, slipping her jacket off, giving Fred better access._

_"It's not a wise decision," his mouth moved down to her newly bared shoulders, his tongue darting out briefly, savoring the slight whimper she made._

_Without warning, Daphne pushed away from her desk, and Fred stepped back, afraid that he might have been offensive. Instead, she turned to face him, sitting delicately on her desk, her pupils blown wide with arousal._

_She beckoned him closer with her finger and he found himself powerless to resist, obeying her command as if he was her loyal acolyte. He moved to stand between her legs, "I don't think the door is locked."_

_Daphne bit her bottom lip, "What do you think we should do them?"_

_"Well, we're used to doing risky things anyway," he kissed her hard, his mouth ruthless, as if he was sealing a contract._

_Grabbing her waist and pulling her to the edge of the desk, he jostled her skirt up, deliciously revealing to him her soft inner thighs. He had to pause, taking a deep breath to steady himself, wanting nothing more then to bury his face and tongue there. To taste her._

_Oh, the things he could do to her if only they had the privacy of a bedroom. Things they had not yet done together._

_But that particular joy would have to wait; time was of the essence right now. He sluggishly pulled his gaze from her face, looking down at her desk that was already tipping with her light weight._

_"We might have to improvise, Daph. I don't think your office furniture is built to last, if you catch my drift," he said with a coy wink._

_Daphne giggled, running her hand teasingly across the hardened bulge in the front of his pants, making him release a groan from deep in his lungs, "I have a few ideas, Freddie."_

_XXXXXX_

_"You feel so good," Fred growled close to her ear as he slid into her wet heat from behind, her body carefully bent over the desk._

_Daphne observed as Fred's hand closed over hers, entwining their fingers. The sweet gesture making her heart ache with love for him._

_She squeezed her eyes shut, Fred's pumping movements went deeper, bringing her closer and closer…._

_"Open your eyes, Daph," he grunted, timing his words with thrusts, "Does that couple in the mirror look like friends to you?"_

_Her eyes were slow to obey, but when she did, she couldn't argue that Fred was wrong. The mirror hanging on the wall had seen her fix her make-up numerous times, but it had never witnessed something like this before._

_Both figures were sweaty, panting, rutting against each other. She watched the reflection as Fred's teeth found her earlobe and gently tugged. Her hair was shamelessly messy and her tank top pulled down, exposing both nipples completely. She saw as Fred's hand gripped her hip to steady his thrusts fron behind while his other snaked around to grasp a firm breast._

_She didn't answer him out loud, not wanting to give him that power over her heart, but he was absolutely correct. The people in the mirror exuded love and desperate passion, no where near the platonic friendship she claimed they had._

_All thoughts of their relationship took a backseat as Fred's hand dipped between her legs, gently rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves there, bringing her body to an invisible paradise of pleasure. Any problems being left behind for now..._

XXXXXX

Daphne stood next to the copier, silently cursing herself for using this particular machine. Everyone in the office knows that this unit is a blood-thirsty demon sent to Earth to devour any paper pushed into it's slot. But to be fair, her mind had been somewhere else, or rather…on someone else.

She sighed, muttering curses under her breath, lifting various covers and slamming buttons. So focused was she on getting the damned device to work that she didn't hear another individual enter the copy room.

Daphne raised her fist, about to smash it into the machine when a voice from the past spoke behind her, "Did danger-prone Daphne break the copier?"

She froze, knowing darn well who said that. Turning slowly, she saw Fred's handsome self leaning against the door frame, arms smugly crossed over his broad chest.

She tried to think of a witty or sarcastic come back, but nothing came to mind. Not even a simple "hello"; her vocal cords seemingly stunned into silence.

Leaning over, Fred unplugged the copier and replaced it back in the socket, "Luckily, it's easy to fix. Just reboot it the ol' fashioned way."

Finally finding her voice, she smiled, "Thanks."

Fred rubbed the back of his neck, while Daphne picked a piece of lint off her blouse, an awkward silence falling over both of them.

"I know you hate me Fred, but it was never my goal to hurt you," she eventually said, her words sounding pathetic, even to her own ears.

She was nearly begging for his forgiveness at this point, her eyes tearing up, "Are we…can we…still be friends?"

"I'm not the right person to ask," he stated, shifting uneasily on his feet. "The term "friends" has left a sour taste in my mouth recently."

Daphne pouted, her pride wounded, "Oh please Freddie, just save the drama for the camera. What would you call Shaggy, Scooby, and Velma then?"

His mouth curved into a ridiculously charming smile and it made heat pool in the pit of her stomach. Whether the warmth was from irritation or desire, she couldnt say. Maybe it was from both.

"I perfer to call them _chums_," Fred's grin growing impossibly bigger.

Without thinking about his blunt honesty, she demanded, "Then what do you call me?"

He didn't answer, but she saw a muscle twitch in his neck, lips forming a thin straight line. She was actually glad when he didn't respond, not really wanting to know what he thought about her anyway.

It would only hurt worse coming from him.

Daphne shook her head, "Forget I said it."

To her suprise, Fred chuckled, immediately defusing the situation, "I don't think I could forget anything you say, Daph."

His words quickly calmed her ire and she was filled with the sudden urge to drop her papers and hug him, squeeze him so tight, and just remain in his brawny arms forever. To spill all the apologies she's hidden in her heart all this time and plead for him to love her back.

But a loud knock on the door frame shattered the mood.

They both turned towards the noise to see Gretchen Sawder, a soap opera producer, smirking and holding up a stack of papers, "Is this the line for the copier?"

Fred's face fell in disappointment as he exited the room, being careful not to bump shoulders with either women. "No. I was just leaving."

Daphne cleared her throat, shuffling her own stack, "Me too. The copier is all yours, Gretchen."


End file.
